Pete Wisdom
People Who Have Been In Teams With 'X' In The Names SHIELD Assorted Defenders, Magic Types, and Wait, What? |history=I've been a jackass from since the day I was born. Probably because I spent most of my childhood at my father's elbow, which was not a good place to be unless you liked being alternately strangled by alcohol fumes or actually thrown up on, or if you liked to look at autopsy photos. See, Da was a special inspector for New Scotland Yard, until he went completely mad. Which is what will happen if you have a photographic memory and decide that what you want to spend your life doing is looking into serial killers. And Mum leaving Da, and Da's getting fired, are so interrelated that I can't actually remember which happened first -- which prompted the other. For a change of pace, I'd sometimes spend time with my older sister. She was born a change of pace. To put it charitably. Da went mad; Romany started mad. Spending time with her was on a level with shifting into reverse from fifth gear -- every five minutes. I was very happy when she picked up burglary as a habit. It was much more sane and normal than the spinning and vomiting generally associated with possession. Like in the Exorcist. By the time I was ten, when Mum told me Romany would be watching me, I knew that that actually meant I'd be being chanted over by the spirit of a long-dead Atlantean priest, and trying very hard to get away. Burglary at least meant I knew what she was saying. Da and Mum finally broke it off for good when I was somewhere in my teens, and I lived with my da. Here's where the shit really hits -- I got in a fight with my mum, she said some horrible things, about Da and about me, so I was still mad at her and decided not to go visit her at her house that week. So of course that day she got shot by a spree killer. Da blamed me. I didn't have a job. Luckily, this was around the time I was finishing secondary school -- so I went to university. Studied Genosha. Lots of history and world politics. When I graduated, the Weird Happenings Organisation recruited me pretty much immediately. First off, they were interested in my knowledge and understanding of Genosha. Second, they were fascinated by the fact that I could fucking shoot fire from my hands. That lot was all right. They just wanted to know how it worked. While I was working for them, primarily doing a lot of research analysis and occasionally hunting vampires -- don't ask. There was a lot of other shit going on around then. Shit like the entire psi division of STRIKE getting mangled as a unit, and then picked off as individuals. Somewhere in the middle of all this, Captain Britain, who'd been gone for a good long time (after screaming some lunacy about psychic attack and jumping out of a plane, thereby blowing his supposedly secret identity) -- anyroad, while I'm with WHO, Braddock comes back out of nowhere, disappears again, shows up again, and Jim Jaspers got elected. And that's when they say reality broke. Personally, I think it broke the second we got someone calling himself Captain Britain. I wouldn't know how broken it was anyway. I spent the entire thing drunk out of my mind. One day I woke up, and I was twenty-four, and the UK had a plethora of bizarre-looking metahuman children that weren't mutants, and no one knew quite what to do about this. Because of STRIKE's having been crushed into the dirt, the dodgier hearts reformed under a new name: the Resource Control Executive, or RCX, which was formed expressly for the purpose of exploiting Warpies for government benefit. Without me even paying attention, I sort of got absorbed into its beginnings. After all, they wanted me for the same reasons WHO did. There was a lot of sensationalism surrounding Captain Britain and Captain UK -- Captain Britain at this point being Betsy -- and I really could've cared less, I was busy getting horrified by RCX's treatment of the Warpies. I filed a formal complaint, which has NEVER done me any good, and it was shelved and I was reassigned. This time the drink of choice was tequila, and the location was Reykjavik. Met my mate, Culley, on that trip; he'd got stuck as my partner because the brass figured he'd cure my conscience for me, was his theory-- I figured it was because he'd eaten a baby in a past life. Roundabout the time I was really starting to hate myself for the things I'd started doing in service to evil bastards in service of the Crown, Captain Britain killed the bastard who had blinded his sister. I don't think it's particularly surprising, then, that I started dating Sari St. Hubbins. She was blonde, homicidal, loony, and fantastic in bed. I was mildly suicidal, addicted to adrenaline, all sorts of fucked in the head anyway, and just turning twenty-five. We were a perfect match. I'm amazed I survived to arrest her for taking a contract that was out on the Queen. I still believe I win at 'worst ways to break up'. The personal thanks of Her Majesty was very good for getting reassigned to MI-6 proper. The backlash from my resubmitting the complaint about RCX with a /MI-6/ -- being a whistleblower -- was very good for getting dumped in the *new* replacement for WHO and the RCX, Black Air. It was just as stupid, and just as evil, as it sounded: this past year, after I did some more really horrible things that usually occupy entire squads of well-armed Marines, I turned *them* in to MI-6 for developing anti-mutant bioweaponry to sell to private interests. The thanks of MI-6 was very thin-lipped indeed. They suggested I might wish to retire. SHIELD suggested I might wish to work for them instead. I let the brass deal with the paperwork, and hoped for the best. = Gallery = File:Pete03.jpg File:Pete-Tink.jpg File:Pete-Faiza.png File:Pete-areyouserious.jpg File:TheyFightCrime.png File:Pete02.jpg File:Pete-zzz.png File:Pete-kitty-kirk.png File:Wisdom-pic.jpg File:Wisdom-art.jpg File:Wisdom-art2.jpg File:Wisdom-art5.jpg File:Pete-myart1.png File:Pete-myart2.png File:Pete-myart3.png File:Pete_Wisdom_Anya_Sketch.png }} Category:FC Category:Anti-Hero Category:Registered-Real-Name Category:Character